


Restoring the Archives

by KatieKomics



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:42:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieKomics/pseuds/KatieKomics
Summary: A collection of writings found in the archives guarded by Blueberry Pie. After the archives were rediscovered, more and more tales were contributed to them. Stories from different times written by different hands. Some may overlap, but all of them could be read alone. It's a small world, but that doesn't mean they don't have a story to tell.
Relationships: Blueberry Pie Cookie/Moonlight Cookie (Cookie Run), so far white is trying and failing to flirt but still points for effort
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Blueberry's Curse

A long time ago the archives were busy and filled with the writing of those who are now elders. Children tell tall tales of themselves as heroes, and while there is truth to some of them we don’t know who escaped first. I'm certain I had it written down somewhere, but that was years ago. The first of us left as a pack.

  
We escaped and never looked back. We made it to the treeline far from the coven of the witch and kept moving still. We were deep in the forest when we found territory that was safe to call home. Somewhere that Millennial Tree decided was worthy of roots. Once he'd settled, we built homes around him. 

  
I became a librarian of sorts. All I kept was history and many of us wrote. We worked together to create records of our stories. Much time has passed since then, and many of us are old. Some older than me, but none older than the Millennial Tree.

  
The archives grew rapidly, and I defended the walls from the inside. As time passed, less and less time was spent contributing to the archives. Fewer visitors came to read, but I remained there. I was still fairly young at the time. I wasn’t a child by any stretch of the word, but I wasn't old.

  
I’d dedicated myself to the archives. They were my home and my reason for being. Yet, without visitors, the dark hallways became haunting. The shelves became unbroken walls, and I was alone. When night fell, no light but that of a candle would find its way into the archives. All was silent except for my own footsteps and my sobs to the moon. 

  
The moon never left. Moonlight and glittering stars would find their way into the reflections of the windows I kept open. Dust from the stale air would rush outside the archives, and the chill would replace it. I’d stand at the windows and cry with loneliness.

  
Moonlight would creep her way down on dull beams casted by the stars and she would dry my tears. Moonlight became my companion.   
All was well until Walpurgisnacht. 

  
On that Night of Witches, another of us was made by the witches we’d escaped from months before. Like a few others, she had powers but unlike them she wasn’t elemental. Previously we’d seen powers relating to tides and skies and fire, but not destruction. Her element is exactly what she brought.  
Fragile as she was, Dark Enchantress needed to destroy. In a way it wasn’t her fault, but her joy in the damage she’d cause was enough to ruin my sympathy for her.  
Enchantress wanted to be the only elemental of her kind, and in a way she nearly succeeded. It was when she snuffed out Fire Spirit that worries about her became panic. She was after the others as well. 

  
Moonlight visited me nightly. Whenever she could. However, the archives offered little protection. The longer she stayed with me the greater the danger became. Moonlight would have to leave, and we didn’t know when she could ever be back. 

  
I’m almost ashamed to admit how I clung to her. She was the only one who would visit me anymore, and I told her everything. I told her every facet of my dread at the thought of once again being alone with nothing but the stone walls and the parchment around us. 

  
Moonlight cupped my face in her hands and kissed my tears away. She had to leave. If she stayed, she would lead Dark Enchantress into the archive. Before she disappeared, Moonlight had left me with a final gift. In the wake of the cold, she brought with her she left me a daughter. A little girl I named Blackberry. 

  
Blackberry Cookie grew up in the archives, and I raised her with all my heart while chaos fell outside. We stayed in the abandoned walls of the old library while I begged somebody to find Dark Enchantress before she found us. Blackberry was hardly a toddler when the moon shone through the windows of the archives again. The light had been tainted with a faint red.

  
Dark Enchantress stormed into the archives through that same window, shattering glass across aged hardwood. She demanded the whereabouts of the Millennial Tree and it’s guardian, both of which I held the key to knowledge of. When I refused to answer her questions, she called upon her servant. A short woman who carried a red mirror and held eyes of red in her skull stone. Their threat was a curse on Blackberry, and I immediately complied with their wishes.

  
The Enchantress and her servant raided the archives, destroying many texts to find what they needed while I hid Blackberry behind me. She clung to my dress with white knuckled fists while our home was torn apart. When they uncovered the informationthey needed, Dark Enchantress double-crossed me, and her red-haired servant shattered the mirror she held.

  
They left the archives destroyed, and me with my daughter dying in my arms. She reached above her with one hand as if trying to grasp what was invisible to me. Her other hand still clung to me.  The cursed sapped away at her while I struggled to cast a spell of my own. Any spell would do, anything that could possibly save her. I performed it with one hand, the other holding my daughter tight. It split our pain.

  
Blackberry and I shared the curse that was meant to take her life that day. At the time I was only relieved she’d lived. It wasn’t my highest priority that my vision faded in and out or that she was cold as ice. What mattered was that my daughter lived. That I still had her.

  
Whatever happened on the outside from that moment on, it didn’t concern us. We stayed as protectors of the archives. Each of us with one foot in the grave from our shared curse. I hadn’t realized anything was amiss until my powers changed. My usual light blue magic having shifted to a dark navy. Where it used to flow gently it was ragged and upset.  As Blackberry grew older, she was a quiet girl. Polite and stoic. One night she pulled on my dress and asked me if she could keep the pet she found. Where Blackberry pointed, there was nothing. I had figured at the time that she was referring to an imaginary friend. She named him Butler. I played along with her.

  
As Blackberry continued to grow up, she exhibited powers of her own. I’d catch glimpses of her hovering or summoning violet fire that refused to spread anywhere at all. When I confronted her, she had no reason to consider any of it to be strange. She told me the ghosts would hold her up when she needed to fly. After that point, I believed her friends were real.

  
Blackberry grew up quickly. At least, from the perspective of a mother, she did. Before long she was a young woman who I couldn’t in good conscience keep trapped in the archives. She had all the knowledge she could ever wonder for held at her fingertips, but I knew it was nothing compared to seeing the world outside for herself.

On the night when the moon shone it’s familiar brilliant blue into the archives I knew it was safe for my daughter to leave. And on that brilliant night, I cried like I’d never cried before. Blackberry, now almost my height, promised to be safe. She promised to visit often and tell me all about what she would make of her life.   
When Blackberry left, I was alone in the archives once again. More time passed, and I continued my lone task of preserving what remained of the past. 

  
This time, the archives didn’t stay unvisited. Perhaps Moonlight was smiling down on me once again, and continued her gift of company. She brought me a family for the second time when a band of three magicians discovered the archives. I believe it was Moonlight who blessed me with visitors, to restore the archives to how they'd been when we were young.


	2. Pistachio's Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After White Choco learns the legend of a mysterious sword, she decides to search for it. On the way she encounters a knight who is walking a similar path away from the kingdom. The knight warns White of the danger she is in.

“Halt!” Pistachio Cookie called as she pointed her lance down towards her defeated opponent. They had fallen backwards with Pistachio's final strike, landing on the ground where she kept them with the end of her weapon. The combatant promptly dropped their weapon and lifted both hands in defeat.   
“State your business! Friend or foe! ” Pistachio demanded fiercely.   
  
“Ma’am, please! Veuillez patienter!  Arrête! ” The cookie beneath her pleaded. They were thin and pale but taller than Pistachio. Luckily, that didn’t account for much when Pistachio had the element of surprise.  
  
“Friend or foe!” Pistachio demanded again. “Do you realize the danger you could be in out here?”  
  
“I do not!” The stranger retorted through a heavy accent. “I do not know you or the danger, and,” she paused to collect her thoughts, murmuring under her breath before coming to the word she wished to say .  “ Therefore! Therefore, I can not know if we are friends or foes! You are wearing a helmet! ”  
  
Pistachio paused at this but still kept the point of her weapon to the strangers neck. “State your business then,” she reiterated. “As I said before you should not be here!”

“I was unaware!” The woman replied, her dark eyes fixed on Pistachio’s weapon. “I seek unfamiliar places and new rivals and glory!”  
  
Pistachio stopped again. “Hold on a second. You’re the fencer from the spring competition. ”  
  
“I am a fencer, yes, and not the only one,” White Choco confirmed quickly.  “Please do not point your lance at my neck; I need that for later when I am still alive. ” Her tone shifted from fearful to hubristic when she was recognized. Yes, this was definitely the same woman.  
  
Pistachio groaned under her helmet and lowered her weapon. “Why are you back here?” She urged.   
  
“Ah, well, you see,” White Choco searched for words as she eyed Pistachio curiously.  “There was a story I heard from a wandering stranger. A story about a very powerful sword.”

  
Pistachio immediately raised her weapon again. “Who told you about that sword?!” She demanded furiously.

  
White Choco choked in surprise and held one hand up defensively. She used the other to keep herself from falling backward. 

  
“The redhaired thief!” White Choco said quickly. 

  
“Don’t trust her,” Pistachio said sternly. “Do you understand? This quest could kill you.”

  
White paused again to consider her options. “You seem to know more about this sword than the thief did.  She just told me it was the greatest blade in existence.”

  
“She was wrong,” Pistachio snapped again. “The blade bears a curse, and it was already claimed. Even if you did find it, that sword would never be yours and you should be grateful to have been spared.”

  
“Quel soulagement,” White Choco muttered in a quiet but exasperated tone. She pushed herself backwards and further from Pistachio’s lance.  
“What was that?”

“A relief, I said,” White Choco spoke up again. “I hear your warning, miss knight.”

  
“Go home, White Choco.” Pistachio’s rigid tone didn’t waver. She stared her down harshly. “Go back where you are safe and don’t come looking for this sword again. You don’t know what you’re facing. Understood?”

  
White Choco nodded, now only half paying attention to what was being said in favour of watching how Pistachio’s long hair fell over her shoulders as she moved. Twisting in a breeze so slight it was almost undetectable.

  
“What about you?” White Choco asked. “You seem familiar with the topic of this sword. Is it mere coincidence we crossed paths or have you perhaps been following me?” The end of her statement was tinged with what Pistachio read as cautious optimism. 

  
“A knight’s mission is for her to know and for you to be protected from. Now go home.” Pistachio lifted her lance away from White Choco, who quickly returned to her feet. If Pistachio had to guess, she would assume the motion was meant to be graceful.  She mostly gathered this by the air of confidence in the way White Choco looked at her. The slight smile and resolute eyes. The same resolution she’d been searching to bring back to an empty kingdom.

  
Pistachio returned an unreadable expression, watching until White Choco had fulfilled her request and retreated in the direction she came from. Down the obscure dirt path and around the bend of forest where they were separated. 

  
Pistachio only relaxed when the sound of White Choco’s footsteps had finally faded. She looked around at her surroundings and further into the twisting woods. The groves grew darker the further they drew from the kingdom. The path was old, but only recently worn. Pistachio glanced back in the direction of the heirless kingdom before returning onto her trail deeper into the woods. She followed the same path of deepening darkness marked by the blade of a prince she once served, gashes in wood and earth marred with his curse. 

  
It wouldn’t be long before word escaped that he’d been taken. Pistachio remained determined that she would retrieve him before that deadline passed. 


End file.
